


Sexual Diversity in Chicago

by haphazardmethod



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-27
Updated: 1999-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haphazardmethod/pseuds/haphazardmethod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You mean the title's not enough?  Another MSR smutfest, inspired by Mulder's "Get over here, Scully" in The Unnatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexual Diversity in Chicago

I shift my bag to my other shoulder and look again at my watch.  
Second thoughts, maybe? Scully set this evening's agenda, but I'd  
still put even money on her backing out. This downtown park by the  
lake is nice but I was hoping for some company. Then I look up, and  
there she is, walking towards me, smiling. I smile back, not least  
because of the way the summer breeze sweeps a few strands of hair into  
her face and wraps her loose, short dress around her thighs. I have  
always loved being out on the road, but now more so than ever.

I'm used to the idea that I am probably always under surveillance at  
work and even at home. Scully is most emphatically not used to the  
idea. The Gunmen do the best they can, sweeping our apartments for  
bugs every week, but Scully remains dubious. I think maybe she  
suspects Frohike of installing his own devices, although she hasn't  
said as much. He wouldn't dare. After that Vegas stunt, the Gunmen  
have been on their best behavior, well aware that next time, she might  
actually carry through on her threat to maim them, in some secret  
untraceable way that only FBI doctors know. I don't disabuse them of  
the notion, partly out of self-interest, and partly because they're  
right. Still, she can't quite shake the idea that someone is  
watching, and while she's not exactly inhibited, she is... muted. Out  
of town, though, is a different story. Once our work is done, that  
is.

My already wandering thoughts scatter for good when she kisses me.  
This is the Scully I dream about, the relaxed and playful one, the  
Scully who isn't an out-and-out exhibitionist but who also doesn't  
think the Eleventh Commandment is "Thou shalt not be affectionate in  
public." Then she pushes her tongue into my mouth and runs the heel  
of her hand up the length of my erection. Oh my. I think I can  
safely interpret this to mean she isn't having second thoughts about  
tonight. In response, I reach under her skirt, and lightly scratch a  
fingernail up the inside of her thigh, making her rise up on her toes  
and arch against me with a low moan. Damn. At this rate we'll be  
back in the hotel room in minutes. I pull away.

"You're late."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry." She leaves one hand on my chest and  
turns slightly to look over her shoulder at the crowd, headed, like  
us, to Grant Park to see the Blues Festival. "There must be half a  
million people here tonight, Mulder. I even had trouble finding you  
once I got here. I bet everyone says 'meet you at Buckingham  
Fountain' without considering that everyone else in the city is doing  
the same thing."

I glance up. She's right, there are people everywhere, scruffy  
sellers pushing shopping carts filled with inflated animal balloons on  
sticks and other doodads, older couples carrying coolers and lawn  
chairs, pretzel carts and churros vendors, clumps of teenage boys in  
baggy clothes laughing and shoving each other, on display for girls  
pretending not to watch. The whole city is a little giddy. Must be  
the prospect of a warm June night, after an endless, cold, gray  
winter. The fountain shoots water 100 feet into the air, the top of  
the plume fanning out in the evening breeze. Down, boy.

"I might forgive you," I say. "If you're nice to me."

She looks at me through half-lidded eyes. "Mulder, I'm always nice to  
you," she croons, "Unless you ask otherwise."

I wasn't aware you could feel your own pupils dilate, but Scully  
teaches me something new every day. "Promises, promises. No fair  
trying to distract me, Scully. We were talking about you, and about  
being late. What do you suppose I should do about that?"

"I can think of a couple of things." Scully rubs up against me  
again, making me regret my earlier decision to wear jeans. I lean  
down to kiss her again, running my hands from her ribcage to her hips,  
smoothing the soft material over her body. Reaching around to rest my  
hands on her ass, I can feel the outline of her underwear. "I thought  
I told you not to wear anything under your dress."

She leans back in my arms to look up at me, laughing, keeping her hips  
pressed against me. "Mulder, you have to be kidding me. It's breezy  
out here by the lake and there are so many people around. I didn't  
want to risk it."

"Take them off." I purposely keep a straight face, knowing full well  
that if she wants to back out of this little game, I'll agree, no  
questions asked.

"What?" Her wide eyes stare up at me. Embarrassment and arousal  
chase a blush across her cheeks, twin imps racing hand in hand,  
chortling wildly at having left common sense bound and gagged back at  
the hotel.

"You heard me. Take them off, or I'll take them off." Scully closes  
her eyes and swallows, a small smile on her lips, a nervous smile, but  
a smile nonetheless. I start to reach up under her dress.

"Stop. No. I'll do it." Leaning her forehead against my chest, eyes  
shut, as if no one can see her if she can't see them, she quickly  
yanks off her panties. "Now what?"

"Give them to me." I put them in my pocket, well aware that this  
little maneuver has not gone unnoticed by the milling concert-goers  
drifting towards the bandshell. What do I care? We're never going to  
see these people again. I'm sure they've seen worse. And truth be  
told, the risk appeals to me, almost as much a turn-on as seeing her  
do something I wouldn't have predicted in a million years. Master  
profiler, my ass.

I shake my head slowly. "It's early yet, and already you're not doing  
what you're told. You know what that means?"

"Yes." She bites her lower lip, stares at her sandals.

* * *  
I think I've died and gone to heaven. I stare at the hotel ceiling  
waiting for my breath to slow down, smiling. Some shameless wheedling  
and two equally brazen fingers had finally convinced Scully that a  
morning at the Art Institute could only be followed by an afternoon in  
the bleachers at a Cubs game. Tomorrow. We still have tonight, and  
I'm in the mood to play. I roll onto my side, propping my head on my  
hand and tucking my body around Scully as she groans and stretches her  
arms towards the headboard and her feet towards the end of the bed.  
She wriggles back down under the covers and I rest my hand on her  
stomach.

"So, Scully, what do you want to do now?"

"Take a shower."

"No, I mean after that. Want to walk out to the pier, get something  
to eat, and pretend to be tourists?"

"Mulder, we can't *pretend* to be tourists," she laughs, "we *are*  
tourists. We don't have to be back in D.C. until Monday and I, for  
one, intend to forget about anything but having fun until then."

I lean in to kiss behind her ear, using my nose to nudge her hair out  
of my way. "Mmm, that sounds promising. What did you have in mind?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mulder," she says, not sounding too  
convinced that she wants anything of the sort.

"But you could have a lot of fun down here with me, Scully. C'mon.  
If the adventurous Special Agent Dr. Scully came out to play with the  
dashing Agent Mulder, what would she want to do?"

She laughs and turns onto her right side, facing away from me. I curl  
tighter around her and my right hand creeps towards its usual  
position, trailing her stomach to cup her left breast. Humming, she  
nestles in some more.

"Scully..."

"Mulder..." she mimics my voice, laughing at me.

"No, seriously." Suddenly, I was dying to know.

"What... I don't know." She buries her head further into the pillow,  
instead of giving me the standard impatient Scully look that should  
accompany this statement.

I wait her out.

"C'mon, Scully. I know you've thought about it. All you have to do  
is ask. I want to know. Really." I circle the soft skin around her  
nipple with my fingertip.

"Mmmm... Stop that, Mulder. You don't really want to know, you just  
want to tease me."

"No, I don't. I swear, I'm not teasing."

"You are, Mulder, you can't help it. And you're tickling me." She  
grabs my hand and cups it back on her breast. "Knowing you, I'll say  
something and you'll either make a joke or you'll ask me a million  
questions, and turn this into some kind of therapy session. Either  
way, I'll end up feeling foolish. Forget it."

I wish I could see her face. She doesn't sound mad, just amused and  
matter of fact. Wheedling already worked once today: Do I dare try it  
twice? "Scully, with my video collection, I am in no position to make  
anyone else feel foolish. Tell you what, I'll make it easy on you --  
I'll guess and you tell me when I'm getting close."

"You'll guess." Distinctly dubious.

"Yes."

"Right. Won't your guesses tell me more about you than the other way  
around?" she asks, pleased with her observation.

"Only if I guess wrong," I laugh. "Anyway, that'll make it a two way  
street. What do you say?"

"Mulder...," she sighs, and I know I have her. She laughs when I  
squeezed her breast. "Okay, fine, I can see I'm not going to be able  
to talk you out of this. You guess, and I'll lay here and dream about  
a shower."

"See? We're already off to a good start. Just close your eyes and  
dream while I think for a minute...." I slowly run my fingers from  
her hip up to her neck and lean in to whisper in her ear. "And as I  
recall the facts, you seemed to really like blindfolding me that time.  
Is that it, Scully?"

I roll her onto her stomach and straddle her legs so I can massage her  
neck and shoulders. "Do you fantasize about being in control, about  
bending me to your will? Can you picture me, blindfolded, tied to  
your bed, naked, waiting for you, not being able to see you, touch  
you, taste you, just waiting, straining, begging for you to touch me?"  
Speaking of two-way streets...

"Pretty picture, Mulder. Okay, I admit, that was fun."

"Fun? That sounds a little lukewarm, Scully."

"Hardly lukewarm, Mulder. It *was* fun. But it wasn't about  
control."

I just look at her. She opens her eyes and twists her chin over her  
shoulder to look at me. She flashes a quick grin before letting her  
head flop back on the pillow. "Well, mostly it wasn't about control.  
I would say the fun part was figuring out exactly what would make you  
come so hard, you'd scream and pass out."

Ah. Focus, Mulder. I kiss as much of her mouth as I can from this  
angle. "Well, that's not quite what I had planned for tonight. You  
haven't answered my question: What would make you scream?"

"What makes anyone scream?" Her eyes were closed again. "Maybe it's  
generally the thrill of wanting something you think you absolutely  
shouldn't want."

I lift myself off of her and roll her back into our spoon position,  
guessing it would be easier for her to talk without looking at me,  
wrapped in the heat of my body. "Scully, I believe that was a classic  
example of holding a topic at an analytic remove to distance yourself  
from its impact. I don't want to know what you think about fantasies  
in general, I want to know what you fantasize about. So what is it  
you shouldn't want, Scully? What can I give you that you can't ask  
for?"

"I thought you weren't going to analyze me, Mulder." She lay silent  
for a moment. "Besides, I can't ask you for what I fantasize about  
because you can't give it to me: I would be happy just being able to  
walk hand-in-hand with you on the Mall without worrying that it will  
be used against us somehow, or that we were being pasted into some  
Consortium family photo album."

Ouch. "Scully..." My arms tighten around her and I sigh into her  
hair as the old guilt washes over me. "I wish I could give that to  
you."

"I know, Mulder. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the game by getting  
serious. It's just..." She rolls in my arms and kisses me until I  
smile, running her hand through my hair. "I wonder sometimes, you  
know. Whether I'll ever have the courage to ignore the fact that we  
might be watched. There are times when I want to just throw up my  
hands and screw you silly, but--"

"It just takes practice, Scully." And then there's humor as a  
distancing mechanism. Choose your weapon.

She cocks an eyebrow at me.

Yes," I say firmly. "And I would be happy to offer my services,  
gallant guy of the 90s that I am."

"Mulder, what *are* you talking about?"

"About releasing your inner exhibitionist." She giggles and I  
continue, delighted. "You've said it's easier for you when we're out  
of town, and here we are out of town. I saw something about a blues  
festival tonight on the lakefront. Just you, me, and three million  
Chicagoans in the dark. How about it? Practice makes perfect, you  
know."

"Mulder, you're nuts."

"Yes, and you love me anyway." I kiss her on the nose.

"I do, but I could never--. You really are out of your mind." She  
leans back to look at me and suddenly I know I'm on the right track.  
She's trying hard to hide it, but I am looking equally hard.

"Come on, Scully. You know you want to." It's worth a shot, anyway.  
"Trust me, I'll make it worth your while. Remember? It's my turn to  
make you scream. All you have to do is behave yourself."

"Behave myself or behave you?"

"Yes."

She is quiet, her breath shallow and quick. I lie still, fighting off  
panic until finally she looks up at me and takes my breath away. I  
would give anything right now to have a camera to capture her  
expression, the way her blue eyes glow with desire, fear, and a  
beautiful hungry playfulness. What have I gotten myself into? I hope  
to God I remember how, so I can get into it again.

"Okay, Mulder, you're on."

We lay there quietly for a few minutes, before I kiss her ear and roll  
over to the other side of the bed, swinging my feet to the floor. She  
rolls over to face me, still wrapped up in the blankets.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I'm going to rustle up a picnic dinner. Meet me by Buckingham  
Fountain at seven. Don't be late. And, Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Don't wear anything under your dress."

* * *  
I watch Scully closely to see what she will do, if she will keep  
going. She digs her fingernails into her palms and takes a deep  
breath. "Sorry."

"No problem. You're not getting off that easy, though. Enjoy the  
concert, but don't forget how this evening is going to end." A bluff.  
I think.

I get a small smile, no teeth, her face still rosy with embarrassment  
and arousal. She slides her arm around my waist, tucking her hand  
into my back pocket, cushioning me from the bag banging against my  
hip. I kiss her and drape my arm across her shoulders as we walk  
towards the bandshell in the flow of the crowd. When we are about as  
close as we can to the concert area, I pull a small blanket out of my  
bag to spread on the grass. We sit side by side, legs stretched out,  
munching on the sandwiches I brought and waiting for the music to  
start.

All around, people sprawl on blankets, most of them eating and  
surreptitiously pouring the contents of paper-bag covered bottles into  
plastic cups. Others wander through the maze of blankets, trying not  
to step on anyone, and vendors hawk snacks, balloons, and a rainbow of  
glow-in-the-dark plastic strings that are pretty popular, judging by  
the number of people wrapped up like weird alien tribesmen. I buy a  
nice glowing green one for Scully to make her laugh as I wind it  
around her wrist. On more than one blanket, couples kiss, their legs  
entwined as if half of Chicago weren't swirling around them. Scully  
seems particularly entranced by the pair three blankets over,  
hypnotized by the gentle rocking of the woman on top.

"See something you like, Scully?" She jumps a little, then speaks  
absently, not turning her head.

"No, no. Not really. Ouch!" She massages her thigh where I pinched  
her and glares at me, her pupils huge in the fading light.

"You like to watch, Scully?"

"Not really, Mulder. Anyway," she drops her voice, "that's your  
department, remember?" She laughs, knowing full well that letting me  
watch her is one of my favorite Scully fantasies. And memories.

Trying to turn the tables, Scully? I don't think so. I grin and  
reach out to whisper my fingertips across the inside of her wrist.  
"So what's your excuse, Scully? Being out in public really does turn  
you on, doesn't it?" There's that look again, hunger fueled by  
trepidation.

People in the front start standing up and clapping, triggering  
everyone behind them to do the same, so I stand, and put out my hand  
to help Scully to her feet. She takes it and rather gracefully folds  
her legs under her to lift herself up, using my hand for leverage,  
thereby managing not to flash the people behind us.

"Mulder, I can't see a thing. What's happening?" She tries standing  
on her toes and craning her neck.

I admit, I am more interested in the muscles in the backs of her legs,  
but I look out over the crowd. "About what you would expect. The  
band is playing. They look pretty old, actually. They don't move  
much, other than to play. You aren't exactly missing a floor show."

I reach out and pull her towards me, wrapping my arms around her. She  
responds by crossing her arms in front of her, nudging my fingers  
apart to nestle her fingers in mine. We stand like that for a long  
time, swaying to the music. I lean in occasionally to kiss her on the  
top of her head or on her ear, which makes her hum in a gratifying  
way. At times like this, I can almost believe life could be this  
simple.

The sun was long gone, taking the crowd's inhibitions with it. Toe  
tapping turns to outright dancing around us and we both laugh at a  
particularly flamboyant display next to us, neither of us inclined to  
dance but happy to be part of the crowd. Then as the first strains of  
"Sweet Home Chicago" blared across the park, the crowd really starts  
to go wild, hooting and hollering and singing along.

"Oh, I wish I could see. I know they aren't doing anything but I wish  
I could see the whole crowd." I look around. Scully isn't the only  
short woman here. Here and there, women sit on their boyfriends'  
shoulders. Husbands? Partners? I wonder what term Scully would  
use. Partner, probably. And me? We aren't married, and girlfriend  
just sounds too juvenile. "Light of my life" is probably a little too  
much information for casual conversation. Partner it is.

I kneel down. "Hey, partner, climb up on my shoulders."

"Mulder! Are you out of your mind?" I squint at her, puzzled by her  
vehement reaction. It's not like others aren't doing the same thing.

"Mulder, I am not wearing any underwear," she hisses through clenched  
teeth. "You can't be serious."

Oh, yeah. My cock jerks to attention in my jeans. I forgot about  
that. Unbelievable. I fix her with a glare. "Get over here, Scully.  
Now."

She strokes my shoulder, trying to figure out a way to convince me to  
drop this. "Mulder..."

"Scully..." She glances around quickly, and with a deep breath, lifts  
her leg across my shoulder. I grab both of her feet and stand up,  
glad I've been more faithful about going to the gym lately. Not that  
she's heavy, but I'm not as young as I used to be. She grabs my hair  
to balance herself.

"There. Can you see?"

"Yes. There are thousands of people here, Mulder. Everywhere I  
look."

My head rests against her stomach, bobbing with her breathing. I look  
around, making her laugh and lightly slap my head when I rub my cheek  
on the inside of her thigh. So soft. I lick the spot I rubbed and  
her hands tighten on my hair. What the hell is she doing? I can feel  
her lightly squeezing and relaxing her leg muscles around my head,  
rubbing herself against my neck, leaving a warm, wet trail on my skin.  
My temperature shoots up about four hundred degrees. I close my eyes,  
and reach down to arrange myself more comfortably in my jeans. Her  
hands tighten on my hair as her rubbing speeds up. My knees can't  
take much more of this, never mind the rest of me.

"Scully." I squeeze her ankles sharply and she freezes. "Don't you  
dare come on my neck."

The guy in front of me whips his head around, disbelief and hope in  
his eyes, as if he can't quite believe what he thinks I said is really  
what I said. You haven't heard anything yet, buddy. I ignore him,  
but Scully gasps, as if suddenly aware she was six feet in the air in  
an awfully short dress. I drop to one knee, twisting to guide her  
down to the ground. Her face is red, at least what I could see of it,  
even though she's facing me. She keeps her head down, studying her  
fists. I sink to the blanket, pulling her down with me.

"Sit down, Scully." I spread my legs apart and she sits on her knees  
between them, still not looking at me. I lean forward to kiss her  
gently, trying to reassure her without words. She must need less  
reassurance than I thought, for soon the kiss heats up, our tongues  
pushing at each other, tangling and darting away. I slide my hands up  
her sides and flick my thumbs across her nipples. She moans into my  
mouth. "Please, Mulder."

"Please what, Scully?"

"Please, I can't take much more of this. Let's go back to the hotel."

I seriously considered her proposal. Honest. I would like nothing  
more than to bury myself in her up to my spine, but she seems pretty  
turned on out here already. "No, the concert isn't over yet. That's  
what we came here for, right?"

"Yes, but we saw the concert. Let's go." She wraps her fingers into  
the top of my waistband to tug me closer and leans in to run her  
tongue along the edge of my ear. Oh God. I swat at her hands and she  
sits back quickly, puzzled.

"I said no, Scully." I reach out and grab her wrists, my fingers  
tangling with the glowing string she still has wrapped around one  
wrist.

"Turn around." I make a turning motion with my hand. She looks at me  
skeptically but turns. "Stay on your knees, though." I scoot up  
close so I can whisper in her ear. "Scully, you keep disobeying me,  
and I really can't ignore that anymore. You wore underwear when I  
especially told you not to, you resisted getting up on my shoulders  
and then you almost brought yourself off up there for all the world to  
see. Now, the question is, what should I do about it?"

She shifts slightly, pulling her legs apart a little farther. I reach  
around her to grasp her wrist, unwinding the plastic string. She is  
panting, there is no other word for it.

"Is this exciting, Scully? Are you wondering what I'm going to do?  
Hmm? Maybe I won't do anything, maybe I won't even touch you. What  
if I just left you like this, Scully? Do you want me to touch you?"

"Oh, God. Here? Um... No, we can't, Mulder."

"Okay. We'll just sit here and listen to the music. In the meantime,  
you can think about what will happen when we get back to the hotel."  
I use the tip of the glow-string to trace a line along the neckline of  
her dress.

She shivers, "uh, Mulder, maybe... um--"

Encouraged, I repeat the move on the hem of her dress, rubbing the  
plastic string against the inside of her thighs.

"Oh, God, Mulder, please." Her eyes flutter shut.

"Please what, Scully? Please stop?" I move the string slowly over her  
thigh and she rocks back against me.

"No!" She looks around nervously, but the crowd was too caught up in  
the music to hear.

Her eyes close again, and her voice drops to a harsh whisper. "Touch  
me, Mulder. Please touch me."

"That's better. See? All you had to do was ask nicely. Now put your  
hands behind you." Her eyes open, though she immediately does as  
asked. I quickly tie the string around both wrists, pinning her hands  
behind her. Her breath speeds up, her whole body tense with  
anticipation.

"Now here's the deal, Scully. Don't you dare move. If you move, I  
will stop, and I won't wait to get to the hotel, I will put you over  
my knee right here, with all these people watching. Do you hear me?"  
She moans, low and deep in her throat, and I briefly regret my  
decision not to go back to the hotel. "I will, you know. And no one  
will stop me. This is a big city, Scully. No one gets involved in  
the city. They've seen it all already. Don't move. Do you understand  
me?"

She wiggles, and nods. I sneak a peek, not surprised that her eyes  
are shut again. I bend my legs up on either side of her to shield us  
as much as possible. I don't want to get arrested for lewd behavior,  
despite what I said about uninvolved city folk. Her position lifts  
her up off the blanket enough for me to reach underneath her dress  
from behind. Very slowly and lightly, I trace a finger from her clit  
down all the way back between her cheeks. She shivers but doesn't  
move. With my other hand, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear so I  
can watch her face.

"You like that?" I do it again. "I think you do, Scully. My finger  
is dripping wet. Wanna see?"

I bring my hand around in front of her face. There is no way in hell  
she is going to open her eyes, I can tell, but her tongue flickers in  
the corner of her mouth. God, I love this woman. "Lick it, Scully.  
Taste yourself on me." She opens her mouth, closing it around my  
finger, eyes closed, cheeks aflame. My cock throbs, jealous. "Good  
girl. You have a beautiful mouth, Scully. Have I told you that  
before? You do. And I have plans for that lovely mouth tonight."

I pull my finger out and trace it down her chin, between her breasts,  
underneath her skirt. I begin to stroke her again, reaching further  
to slick my fingertips, smearing, massaging her clit in small circles,  
gradually increasing pressure and speed.

"What are you thinking about, Scully? Are you thinking about all  
these people around us, wondering whether they see you, whether they  
know exactly how hot you are, how desperate you are? Or are you  
thinking about my finger in your mouth, about what I intend to put in  
your mouth later? Are you thinking about how my cock feels in your  
mouth, Scully? Because I am."

Her chin on her chest, she hums. With my other hand, I reach in from  
behind to slip two fingers inside her. She arches her back, lifting  
her ass off her heels. I pull my fingers out immediately.

"None of that, Scully. I warned you. Unless you want to find out what  
else is in my bag, I strongly suggest you don't move again." Her  
muscles clench, but she settles back down. I thrust my fingers in and  
out, using my other hand to rub small circles around her clit.

"Open your eyes, Scully."

"No, I can't." She shakes her head, launching a bead of sweat down  
the side of her face. I lick it off. I can feel the heat radiating  
from her.

"Scully, how will you know if anyone is watching if you don't look?"

Her eyelids pop open but slam shut almost immediately, and she groans.  
"No, it's too much, I can't, I..."

I can feel her first convulsions around my fingers, her body quivering  
from the effort of keeping herself still, each breath quickly caught  
and held between her slightly open lips. Won't be long now. I crook  
my fingers inside her, changing the angle. One last gasp and she  
stiffens as the full force of her orgasm hits, biting her lip to stay  
quiet, swaying only slightly, her head falling back against my  
shoulder. I can't say I made her scream, but this is still without a  
doubt the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life. Comets  
screeching across the sky have nothing on a red-haired star imploding  
into a black hole of ecstasy. I wrap my arms around her as she glides  
back down, gasping for air, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

"God, Scully, that was incredible," I murmur into her hair, dropping  
kisses on her forehead, and anywhere else I can reach while I untie  
her hands. Silence. Uh-oh.

"Scully?"

"I'm fine, Mulder."

Shit, now I'm scared. "Scully..."

"No, really, I'm fine. You're right, that was... incredible."

She tilts her chin up and I kiss her, relieved.

"Um, Scully?"

"Yes?" Bliss, thy name is Scully.

"Let's head back to the hotel." Don't get me wrong, Scully, I love  
that you look like an eager kid who just discovered a new toy, but if  
I don't get out of these jeans and into you soon, I'm going to have a  
coronary.

She looks at me with a mischievous smile, guessing the reason for my  
sudden hurry, and slowly, oh so slowly, untangles her limbs from mine.  
I gather up the blanket and shove it back into my bag while looking  
around to reorient myself, desperate to find the train station. Time  
to go, time to go, timetogo.

"Hey, Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"How crowded do you think subway cars get?

I lean in to kiss behind her ear, using my nose to nudge her hair out  
of my way. "Mmm, that sounds promising. What did you have in mind?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mulder," she says, not sounding too  
convinced that she wants anything of the sort.

"But you could have a lot of fun down here with me, Scully. C'mon.  
If the adventurous Special Agent Dr. Scully came out to play with the  
dashing Agent Mulder, what would she want to do?"

She laughs and turns onto her right side, facing away from me. I curl  
tighter around her and my right hand creeps towards its usual  
position, trailing her stomach to cup her left breast. Humming, she  
nestles in some more.

"Scully..."

"Mulder..." she mimics my voice, laughing at me.

"No, seriously." Suddenly, I was dying to know.

"What... I don't know." She buries her head further into the pillow,  
instead of giving me the standard impatient Scully look that should  
accompany this statement.

I wait her out.

"C'mon, Scully. I know you've thought about it. All you have to do  
is ask. I want to know. Really." I circle the soft skin around her  
nipple with my fingertip.

"Mmmm... Stop that, Mulder. You don't really want to know, you just  
want to tease me."

"No, I don't. I swear, I'm not teasing."

"You are, Mulder, you can't help it. And you're tickling me." She  
grabs my hand and cups it back on her breast. "Knowing you, I'll say  
something and you'll either make a joke or you'll ask me a million  
questions, and turn this into some kind of therapy session. Either  
way, I'll end up feeling foolish. Forget it."

I wish I could see her face. She doesn't sound mad, just amused and  
matter of fact. Wheedling already worked once today: Do I dare try it  
twice? "Scully, with my video collection, I am in no position to make  
anyone else feel foolish. Tell you what, I'll make it easy on you --  
I'll guess and you tell me when I'm getting close."

"You'll guess." Distinctly dubious.

"Yes."

"Right. Won't your guesses tell me more about you than the other way  
around?" she asks, pleased with her observation.

"Only if I guess wrong," I laugh. "Anyway, that'll make it a two way  
street. What do you say?"

"Mulder...," she sighs, and I know I have her. She laughs when I  
squeezed her breast. "Okay, fine, I can see I'm not going to be able  
to talk you out of this. You guess, and I'll lay here and dream about  
a shower."

"See? We're already off to a good start. Just close your eyes and  
dream while I think for a minute...." I slowly run my fingers from  
her hip up to her neck and lean in to whisper in her ear. "And as I  
recall the facts, you seemed to really like blindfolding me that time.  
Is that it, Scully?"

I roll her onto her stomach and straddle her legs so I can massage her  
neck and shoulders. "Do you fantasize about being in control, about  
bending me to your will? Can you picture me, blindfolded, tied to  
your bed, naked, waiting for you, not being able to see you, touch  
you, taste you, just waiting, straining, begging for you to touch me?"  
Speaking of two-way streets...

"Pretty picture, Mulder. Okay, I admit, that was fun."

"Fun? That sounds a little lukewarm, Scully."

"Hardly lukewarm, Mulder. It *was* fun. But it wasn't about  
control."

I just look at her. She opens her eyes and twists her chin over her  
shoulder to look at me. She flashes a quick grin before letting her  
head flop back on the pillow. "Well, mostly it wasn't about control.  
I would say the fun part was figuring out exactly what would make you  
come so hard, you'd scream and pass out."

Ah. Focus, Mulder. I kiss as much of her mouth as I can from this  
angle. "Well, that's not quite what I had planned for tonight. You  
haven't answered my question: What would make you scream?"

"What makes anyone scream?" Her eyes were closed again. "Maybe it's  
generally the thrill of wanting something you think you absolutely  
shouldn't want."

I lift myself off of her and roll her back into our spoon position,  
guessing it would be easier for her to talk without looking at me,  
wrapped in the heat of my body. "Scully, I believe that was a classic  
example of holding a topic at an analytic remove to distance yourself  
from its impact. I don't want to know what you think about fantasies  
in general, I want to know what you fantasize about. So what is it  
you shouldn't want, Scully? What can I give you that you can't ask  
for?"

"I thought you weren't going to analyze me, Mulder." She lay silent  
for a moment. "Besides, I can't ask you for what I fantasize about  
because you can't give it to me: I would be happy just being able to  
walk hand-in-hand with you on the Mall without worrying that it will  
be used against us somehow, or that we were being pasted into some  
Consortium family photo album."

Ouch. "Scully..." My arms tighten around her and I sigh into her  
hair as the old guilt washes over me. "I wish I could give that to  
you."

"I know, Mulder. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the game by getting  
serious. It's just..." She rolls in my arms and kisses me until I  
smile, running her hand through my hair. "I wonder sometimes, you  
know. Whether I'll ever have the courage to ignore the fact that we  
might be watched. There are times when I want to just throw up my  
hands and screw you silly, but--"

"It just takes practice, Scully." And then there's humor as a  
distancing mechanism. Choose your weapon.

She cocks an eyebrow at me.

Yes," I say firmly. "And I would be happy to offer my services,  
gallant guy of the 90s that I am."

"Mulder, what *are* you talking about?"

"About releasing your inner exhibitionist." She giggles and I  
continue, delighted. "You've said it's easier for you when we're out  
of town, and here we are out of town. I saw something about a blues  
festival tonight on the lakefront. Just you, me, and three million  
Chicagoans in the dark. How about it? Practice makes perfect, you  
know."

"Mulder, you're nuts."

"Yes, and you love me anyway." I kiss her on the nose.

"I do, but I could never--. You really are out of your mind." She  
leans back to look at me and suddenly I know I'm on the right track.  
She's trying hard to hide it, but I am looking equally hard.

"Come on, Scully. You know you want to." It's worth a shot, anyway.  
"Trust me, I'll make it worth your while. Remember? It's my turn to  
make you scream. All you have to do is behave yourself."

"Behave myself or behave you?"

"Yes."

She is quiet, her breath shallow and quick. I lie still, fighting off  
panic until finally she looks up at me and takes my breath away. I  
would give anything right now to have a camera to capture her  
expression, the way her blue eyes glow with desire, fear, and a  
beautiful hungry playfulness. What have I gotten myself into? I hope  
to God I remember how, so I can get into it again.

"Okay, Mulder, you're on."

We lay there quietly for a few minutes, before I kiss her ear and roll  
over to the other side of the bed, swinging my feet to the floor. She  
rolls over to face me, still wrapped up in the blankets.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I'm going to rustle up a picnic dinner. Meet me by Buckingham  
Fountain at seven. Don't be late. And, Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Don't wear anything under your dress."

* * *  
I watch Scully closely to see what she will do, if she will keep  
going. She digs her fingernails into her palms and takes a deep  
breath. "Sorry."

"No problem. You're not getting off that easy, though. Enjoy the  
concert, but don't forget how this evening is going to end." A bluff.  
I think.

I get a small smile, no teeth, her face still rosy with embarrassment  
and arousal. She slides her arm around my waist, tucking her hand  
into my back pocket, cushioning me from the bag banging against my  
hip. I kiss her and drape my arm across her shoulders as we walk  
towards the bandshell in the flow of the crowd. When we are about as  
close as we can to the concert area, I pull a small blanket out of my  
bag to spread on the grass. We sit side by side, legs stretched out,  
munching on the sandwiches I brought and waiting for the music to  
start.

All around, people sprawl on blankets, most of them eating and  
surreptitiously pouring the contents of paper-bag covered bottles into  
plastic cups. Others wander through the maze of blankets, trying not  
to step on anyone, and vendors hawk snacks, balloons, and a rainbow of  
glow-in-the-dark plastic strings that are pretty popular, judging by  
the number of people wrapped up like weird alien tribesmen. I buy a  
nice glowing green one for Scully to make her laugh as I wind it  
around her wrist. On more than one blanket, couples kiss, their legs  
entwined as if half of Chicago weren't swirling around them. Scully  
seems particularly entranced by the pair three blankets over,  
hypnotized by the gentle rocking of the woman on top.

"See something you like, Scully?" She jumps a little, then speaks  
absently, not turning her head.

"No, no. Not really. Ouch!" She massages her thigh where I pinched  
her and glares at me, her pupils huge in the fading light.

"You like to watch, Scully?"

"Not really, Mulder. Anyway," she drops her voice, "that's your  
department, remember?" She laughs, knowing full well that letting me  
watch her is one of my favorite Scully fantasies. And memories.

Trying to turn the tables, Scully? I don't think so. I grin and  
reach out to whisper my fingertips across the inside of her wrist.  
"So what's your excuse, Scully? Being out in public really does turn  
you on, doesn't it?" There's that look again, hunger fueled by  
trepidation.

People in the front start standing up and clapping, triggering  
everyone behind them to do the same, so I stand, and put out my hand  
to help Scully to her feet. She takes it and rather gracefully folds  
her legs under her to lift herself up, using my hand for leverage,  
thereby managing not to flash the people behind us.

"Mulder, I can't see a thing. What's happening?" She tries standing  
on her toes and craning her neck.

I admit, I am more interested in the muscles in the backs of her legs,  
but I look out over the crowd. "About what you would expect. The  
band is playing. They look pretty old, actually. They don't move  
much, other than to play. You aren't exactly missing a floor show."

I reach out and pull her towards me, wrapping my arms around her. She  
responds by crossing her arms in front of her, nudging my fingers  
apart to nestle her fingers in mine. We stand like that for a long  
time, swaying to the music. I lean in occasionally to kiss her on the  
top of her head or on her ear, which makes her hum in a gratifying  
way. At times like this, I can almost believe life could be this  
simple.

The sun was long gone, taking the crowd's inhibitions with it. Toe  
tapping turns to outright dancing around us and we both laugh at a  
particularly flamboyant display next to us, neither of us inclined to  
dance but happy to be part of the crowd. Then as the first strains of  
"Sweet Home Chicago" blared across the park, the crowd really starts  
to go wild, hooting and hollering and singing along.

"Oh, I wish I could see. I know they aren't doing anything but I wish  
I could see the whole crowd." I look around. Scully isn't the only  
short woman here. Here and there, women sit on their boyfriends'  
shoulders. Husbands? Partners? I wonder what term Scully would  
use. Partner, probably. And me? We aren't married, and girlfriend  
just sounds too juvenile. "Light of my life" is probably a little too  
much information for casual conversation. Partner it is.

I kneel down. "Hey, partner, climb up on my shoulders."

"Mulder! Are you out of your mind?" I squint at her, puzzled by her  
vehement reaction. It's not like others aren't doing the same thing.

"Mulder, I am not wearing any underwear," she hisses through clenched  
teeth. "You can't be serious."

Oh, yeah. My cock jerks to attention in my jeans. I forgot about  
that. Unbelievable. I fix her with a glare. "Get over here, Scully.  
Now."

She strokes my shoulder, trying to figure out a way to convince me to  
drop this. "Mulder..."

"Scully..." She glances around quickly, and with a deep breath, lifts  
her leg across my shoulder. I grab both of her feet and stand up,  
glad I've been more faithful about going to the gym lately. Not that  
she's heavy, but I'm not as young as I used to be. She grabs my hair  
to balance herself.

"There. Can you see?"

"Yes. There are thousands of people here, Mulder. Everywhere I  
look."

My head rests against her stomach, bobbing with her breathing. I look  
around, making her laugh and lightly slap my head when I rub my cheek  
on the inside of her thigh. So soft. I lick the spot I rubbed and  
her hands tighten on my hair. What the hell is she doing? I can feel  
her lightly squeezing and relaxing her leg muscles around my head,  
rubbing herself against my neck, leaving a warm, wet trail on my skin.  
My temperature shoots up about four hundred degrees. I close my eyes,  
and reach down to arrange myself more comfortably in my jeans. Her  
hands tighten on my hair as her rubbing speeds up. My knees can't  
take much more of this, never mind the rest of me.

"Scully." I squeeze her ankles sharply and she freezes. "Don't you  
dare come on my neck."

The guy in front of me whips his head around, disbelief and hope in  
his eyes, as if he can't quite believe what he thinks I said is really  
what I said. You haven't heard anything yet, buddy. I ignore him,  
but Scully gasps, as if suddenly aware she was six feet in the air in  
an awfully short dress. I drop to one knee, twisting to guide her  
down to the ground. Her face is red, at least what I could see of it,  
even though she's facing me. She keeps her head down, studying her  
fists. I sink to the blanket, pulling her down with me.

"Sit down, Scully." I spread my legs apart and she sits on her knees  
between them, still not looking at me. I lean forward to kiss her  
gently, trying to reassure her without words. She must need less  
reassurance than I thought, for soon the kiss heats up, our tongues  
pushing at each other, tangling and darting away. I slide my hands up  
her sides and flick my thumbs across her nipples. She moans into my  
mouth. "Please, Mulder."

"Please what, Scully?"

"Please, I can't take much more of this. Let's go back to the hotel."

I seriously considered her proposal. Honest. I would like nothing  
more than to bury myself in her up to my spine, but she seems pretty  
turned on out here already. "No, the concert isn't over yet. That's  
what we came here for, right?"

"Yes, but we saw the concert. Let's go." She wraps her fingers into  
the top of my waistband to tug me closer and leans in to run her  
tongue along the edge of my ear. Oh God. I swat at her hands and she  
sits back quickly, puzzled.

"I said no, Scully." I reach out and grab her wrists, my fingers  
tangling with the glowing string she still has wrapped around one  
wrist.

"Turn around." I make a turning motion with my hand. She looks at me  
skeptically but turns. "Stay on your knees, though." I scoot up  
close so I can whisper in her ear. "Scully, you keep disobeying me,  
and I really can't ignore that anymore. You wore underwear when I  
especially told you not to, you resisted getting up on my shoulders  
and then you almost brought yourself off up there for all the world to  
see. Now, the question is, what should I do about it?"

She shifts slightly, pulling her legs apart a little farther. I reach  
around her to grasp her wrist, unwinding the plastic string. She is  
panting, there is no other word for it.

"Is this exciting, Scully? Are you wondering what I'm going to do?  
Hmm? Maybe I won't do anything, maybe I won't even touch you. What  
if I just left you like this, Scully? Do you want me to touch you?"

"Oh, God. Here? Um... No, we can't, Mulder."

"Okay. We'll just sit here and listen to the music. In the meantime,  
you can think about what will happen when we get back to the hotel."  
I use the tip of the glow-string to trace a line along the neckline of  
her dress.

She shivers, "uh, Mulder, maybe... um--"

Encouraged, I repeat the move on the hem of her dress, rubbing the  
plastic string against the inside of her thighs.

"Oh, God, Mulder, please." Her eyes flutter shut.

"Please what, Scully? Please stop?" I move the string slowly over her  
thigh and she rocks back against me.

"No!" She looks around nervously, but the crowd was too caught up in  
the music to hear.

Her eyes close again, and her voice drops to a harsh whisper. "Touch  
me, Mulder. Please touch me."

"That's better. See? All you had to do was ask nicely. Now put your  
hands behind you." Her eyes open, though she immediately does as  
asked. I quickly tie the string around both wrists, pinning her hands  
behind her. Her breath speeds up, her whole body tense with  
anticipation.

"Now here's the deal, Scully. Don't you dare move. If you move, I  
will stop, and I won't wait to get to the hotel, I will put you over  
my knee right here, with all these people watching. Do you hear me?"  
She moans, low and deep in her throat, and I briefly regret my  
decision not to go back to the hotel. "I will, you know. And no one  
will stop me. This is a big city, Scully. No one gets involved in  
the city. They've seen it all already. Don't move. Do you understand  
me?"

She wiggles, and nods. I sneak a peek, not surprised that her eyes  
are shut again. I bend my legs up on either side of her to shield us  
as much as possible. I don't want to get arrested for lewd behavior,  
despite what I said about uninvolved city folk. Her position lifts  
her up off the blanket enough for me to reach underneath her dress  
from behind. Very slowly and lightly, I trace a finger from her clit  
down all the way back between her cheeks. She shivers but doesn't  
move. With my other hand, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear so I  
can watch her face.

"You like that?" I do it again. "I think you do, Scully. My finger  
is dripping wet. Wanna see?"

I bring my hand around in front of her face. There is no way in hell  
she is going to open her eyes, I can tell, but her tongue flickers in  
the corner of her mouth. God, I love this woman. "Lick it, Scully.  
Taste yourself on me." She opens her mouth, closing it around my  
finger, eyes closed, cheeks aflame. My cock throbs, jealous. "Good  
girl. You have a beautiful mouth, Scully. Have I told you that  
before? You do. And I have plans for that lovely mouth tonight."

I pull my finger out and trace it down her chin, between her breasts,  
underneath her skirt. I begin to stroke her again, reaching further  
to slick my fingertips, smearing, massaging her clit in small circles,  
gradually increasing pressure and speed.

"What are you thinking about, Scully? Are you thinking about all  
these people around us, wondering whether they see you, whether they  
know exactly how hot you are, how desperate you are? Or are you  
thinking about my finger in your mouth, about what I intend to put in  
your mouth later? Are you thinking about how my cock feels in your  
mouth, Scully? Because I am."

Her chin on her chest, she hums. With my other hand, I reach in from  
behind to slip two fingers inside her. She arches her back, lifting  
her ass off her heels. I pull my fingers out immediately.

"None of that, Scully. I warned you. Unless you want to find out what  
else is in my bag, I strongly suggest you don't move again." Her  
muscles clench, but she settles back down. I thrust my fingers in and  
out, using my other hand to rub small circles around her clit.

"Open your eyes, Scully."

"No, I can't." She shakes her head, launching a bead of sweat down  
the side of her face. I lick it off. I can feel the heat radiating  
from her.

"Scully, how will you know if anyone is watching if you don't look?"

Her eyelids pop open but slam shut almost immediately, and she groans.  
"No, it's too much, I can't, I..."

I can feel her first convulsions around my fingers, her body quivering  
from the effort of keeping herself still, each breath quickly caught  
and held between her slightly open lips. Won't be long now. I crook  
my fingers inside her, changing the angle. One last gasp and she  
stiffens as the full force of her orgasm hits, biting her lip to stay  
quiet, swaying only slightly, her head falling back against my  
shoulder. I can't say I made her scream, but this is still without a  
doubt the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life. Comets  
screeching across the sky have nothing on a red-haired star imploding  
into a black hole of ecstasy. I wrap my arms around her as she glides  
back down, gasping for air, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

"God, Scully, that was incredible," I murmur into her hair, dropping  
kisses on her forehead, and anywhere else I can reach while I untie  
her hands. Silence. Uh-oh.

"Scully?"

"I'm fine, Mulder."

Shit, now I'm scared. "Scully..."

"No, really, I'm fine. You're right, that was... incredible."

She tilts her chin up and I kiss her, relieved.

"Um, Scully?"

"Yes?" Bliss, thy name is Scully.

"Let's head back to the hotel." Don't get me wrong, Scully, I love  
that you look like an eager kid who just discovered a new toy, but if  
I don't get out of these jeans and into you soon, I'm going to have a  
coronary.

She looks at me with a mischievous smile, guessing the reason for my  
sudden hurry, and slowly, oh so slowly, untangles her limbs from mine.  
I gather up the blanket and shove it back into my bag while looking  
around to reorient myself, desperate to find the train station. Time  
to go, time to go, timetogo.

"Hey, Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"How crowded do you think subway cars get?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Barbara D., Chey and Sharon for beta reading, editing, and much handholding of a nervous smut writer.


End file.
